Life in Contrasts
When Daddy's Alzheimer's became obvious, we were living in Nebraska, and then we lived in Vermont. Neither location was close enough to Md. to allow for frequent visits to my parents. Whenever I did get to Salisbury, I anticipated seeing the normal and the abnormal played out before me.
On this visit my father's sister came for the afternoon. She was Daddy's big sister, 84 on her next birthday. Aunt Pauline's once tall and robust frame was now gaunt and frail. She still stood tall and straight; her words were clear and precise. She sat at the kitchen table eating my mother's carefully prepared meal that wasn't much different than the ones Mother used to make before Daddy's problem became clear. This lunch was a bonus meal. Instead of the intermittent silence of one sided conversations, Mother talked with my aunt and then with me. Mom made efforts to include him in conversations by asking him "Don't you remember---?" questions but if he could remember he couldn't find the words to express it.
Mother had to take Aunt Pauline home. Daddy and Mother got into the front seat, with Mother on the driver's side which was in stark contrast to all those years when only a severe headache would keep my father from driving. Aunt Pauline and I sat in the back. My aunt didn't get out much anymore and so Mother decided to take her on a drive before we would arrive at her home. Mom gave a running commentary about new construction and other changes in the landscape. She made comments to Daddy even though she had little hope of him responding.
Suddenly my dad began to drum on the door. The intensity of the drumming increased. His face was hidden; his shoulders alone revealed the tension he must have been feeling. As he shook his head from side to side I caught a glimpse of his pursed lips. Suddenly Daddy hit the control for the door lock.
"Olin, what are you doing?" Mother asked as she relocked the door.
"I want to get out and go where I want to go," the man demanded. The word "I" seemed to explode from his mouth. The car had come to a momentary stop and Daddy unlocked the door.
"No, Olin, you can't do that." The lock popped again as Mother for that second took control. The light changed and we continued on our journey and the war of locking and unlocking door locks continued.The staccato of the popping locks provided uneasy background music for the rest of the trip. Mother kept the upper hand. Every few minutes Daddy would turn and silently plead for help from his big sister, someone to save him from this "dictator". My aunt was helpless to aid her baby brother; her pain over her powerlessness was mirrored in her face.
The next day Mother decided to make peach ice cream. I stayed upstairs while they went to the basement to make the much anticipated summer treat. As they plugged the ice cream maker in I heard the whir of the motor. Soon a staccato rhythm pushed the whirring into the background. The rhythm sounded reminiscent of the dueling door locks. This time it was the sound of my parents playing ping pong that filled the air. Yesterday in the car was a time of craziness, a time when my world seemed upside down. Today it was again right side up with my parents making ice cream and playing ping pong. In the car they were at odds with each other. One day later they were working and playing together like they had done so many times in their more than 45 years together. What a blessing that in those upside down times God gives the familiar comfort of everyday life. Things like feeding the birds and hanging out laundry take on almost a sacred quality.
On this visit my father's sister came for the afternoon. She was Daddy's big sister, 84 on her next birthday. Aunt Pauline's once tall and robust frame was now gaunt and frail. She still stood tall and straight; her words were clear and precise. She sat at the kitchen table eating my mother's carefully prepared meal that wasn't much different than the ones Mother used to make before Daddy's problem became clear. This lunch was a bonus meal. Instead of the intermittent silence of one sided conversations, Mother talked with my aunt and then with me. Mom made efforts to include him in conversations by asking him "Don't you remember---?" questions but if he could remember he couldn't find the words to express it.
Mother had to take Aunt Pauline home. Daddy and Mother got into the front seat, with Mother on the driver's side which was in stark contrast to all those years when only a severe headache would keep my father from driving. Aunt Pauline and I sat in the back. My aunt didn't get out much anymore and so Mother decided to take her on a drive before we would arrive at her home. Mom gave a running commentary about new construction and other changes in the landscape. She made comments to Daddy even though she had little hope of him responding.
Suddenly my dad began to drum on the door. The intensity of the drumming increased. His face was hidden; his shoulders alone revealed the tension he must have been feeling. As he shook his head from side to side I caught a glimpse of his pursed lips. Suddenly Daddy hit the control for the door lock.
"Olin, what are you doing?" Mother asked as she relocked the door.
"I want to get out and go where I want to go," the man demanded. The word "I" seemed to explode from his mouth. The car had come to a momentary stop and Daddy unlocked the door.
"No, Olin, you can't do that." The lock popped again as Mother for that second took control. The light changed and we continued on our journey and the war of locking and unlocking door locks continued.The staccato of the popping locks provided uneasy background music for the rest of the trip. Mother kept the upper hand. Every few minutes Daddy would turn and silently plead for help from his big sister, someone to save him from this "dictator". My aunt was helpless to aid her baby brother; her pain over her powerlessness was mirrored in her face.
The next day Mother decided to make peach ice cream. I stayed upstairs while they went to the basement to make the much anticipated summer treat. As they plugged the ice cream maker in I heard the whir of the motor. Soon a staccato rhythm pushed the whirring into the background. The rhythm sounded reminiscent of the dueling door locks. This time it was the sound of my parents playing ping pong that filled the air. Yesterday in the car was a time of craziness, a time when my world seemed upside down. Today it was again right side up with my parents making ice cream and playing ping pong. In the car they were at odds with each other. One day later they were working and playing together like they had done so many times in their more than 45 years together. What a blessing that in those upside down times God gives the familiar comfort of everyday life. Things like feeding the birds and hanging out laundry take on almost a sacred quality.
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